


All Thumbs

by konneko_chan



Category: GOT7
Genre: Baby!Bambam, Domestic Fluff, M/M, blink and you'll miss it smut, extended tweet fic, no Yugyeom sorry!, slight mention of Jinson, slight mention of kid!Youngjae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 15:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konneko_chan/pseuds/konneko_chan
Summary: When it comes to parenting, Jaebeom has no doubt in his husband's abilities as a father. As for his own, however ... well, he could do with some extra confidence in himself.





	All Thumbs

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a lot of firsts for me: my first fanfic posted up here — the first full-length RPF I've ever written — and the first completed fic I've written in a very, very long time. I haven't been inspired to write in years, but apparently the muse I thought had abandoned me has decided to come back. 
> 
> So, in celebration of Lullaby's 4th Win (we haven't won on Inkigayo in forever, this is monumental!), I thought I would celebrate by finally posting this up here. This started out originally as a Tweet fic, but I've expanded on it a little to add more depth and detail for the AO3 platform.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has supported and encouraged me to get back into writing, namely my Twitter fam without whom this fic would never have been possible. And a special thank you to the amazing [Nerissa](https://twitter.com/kenryoku) for giving this fic a set of objective eyes; it's not her fandom, and yet I couldn't ask for a better beta.
> 
> I hope you have fun reading!

Jaebeom enjoyed his sleep, he really did. A music producer with a few solid hits under his self-owned record label, he worked such long and unpredictable hours in his studio that guarantees of eight solid were hard to come by. So, when he did get a chance to curl up in his cosy, comfortable queen-sized, buried under the fluffy duvet someone insisted they had to have, he made full use of that chance with much relish and relief.

 

All the more so when that chance included snuggling against the love of his life, his strong arms wrapped around the slender blonde as Jaebeom breathed in the soothing scent of Mark’s cotton blossom shampoo.

 

But tonight, Jaebeom found himself stirring from a dreamless sleep. There was nothing bothering him, no pressing issue at work or at home that would keep him lying awake. And yet, there he was, with his eyes now wide open and resting on the tranquil face of the man soundly snoozing atop his chest.

 

For the briefest of moments, Jaebeom contemplated waking Mark up to see if the older was up for a quickie —it’d been a while since they’d enjoyed each other physically—and then he remembered. Jaebeom ran a hand down a face flushing with shame, even as he gently and carefully shifted so that Mark’s head rested back against their pillows while he climbed out of bed.

 

_ Idiot, _ he kept chiding himself.  _ Idiot, idiot, idiot. _

 

Mark needed his sleep; technically, they both did—but Mark definitely more than him, Jaebeom thought as he padded his way to the room across the hall from the master suite. There was good reason why Mark was so tired—and why they hadn’t much time for sex recently, when they used to go at it like rabbits every opportunity they could.

 

He pushed opened the door, already left ajar for a purpose, and quietly shuffled to the wooden crib in which a baby boy dozed peacefully.

 

Jaebeom gazed down at the little human and brushed a gentle finger against the soft, smooth skin—and when a tiny hand curled tightly around it, he could feel his heart expand with such immense joy he didn’t know how it could even be contained. 

 

This was his baby. His boy. His son!

 

The last time Jaebeom had felt like this, he’d watched Mark walk down the aisle to him: fair and willowy Mark, so ethereally beautiful in his snow white tuxedo that Jaebeom was certain he had saved the country in a previous life to have been so blessed. Until today, despite having been together for eight years, five of those blissfully married, Jaebeom still found it astonishing sometimes—astounding even—that someone as kind and wonderful and perfect as Mark Tuan Yien had chosen someone like  _ him _ as his partner.

 

_ Why do you love me, _ Jaebeom would find himself wondering as he stared at Mark—over coffee, over breakfast, from the corner of his eye as they cuddled together on the living room sofa to Netflix and chill.

 

“Stop that,” Mark would tell him time and time again, to which Jaebeom would scoff.

 

“You don’t even know what I’m thinking,” he would say, but each time he would be amazed at his husband’s uncanny ability to sense his doubts.

 

“Don’t I? We haven’t been together this long for no reason,” Mark would reply, and he’d take Jaebeom’s hand in between his own and press a kiss to it—a kiss that would help wash away all the fear and anxiety that kept creeping into Jaebeom’s heart.

 

Mark had always been good at that, allaying his worries, either with a word or a touch. The last time Jaebeom had openly questioned Mark’s interest in him—this was ages ago, before they were married—Mark had flashed him the sweet, gentle smile that was his trademark and leaned forward to press the softest, sweetest of kisses on Jaebeom’s lips.

 

“I like you because you’re  _ you _ ,” Mark had said when he pulled back, his sincerity reflected in the sparkling of his eyes. “I want you because you’re  _ you _ . I love you because you’re  _ you _ . There’s no one else for me, Beommie; I don’t want anyone else. Why would I? I’d be a fool to settle for scraps when I already have the best.”

 

That little declaration had sent Jaebeom straight to the jewellers to pick up the engagement band he’d specially ordered for Mark weeks before—and that very night, he’d proposed to a sobbing Mark over last-minute roses, homemade kimchi stew and whatever bits of candle he could find in the tiny apartment they shared back then. Mark’s very happy (albeit very teary) YES! had led to such wild lovemaking that the two of them were left deliciously aching all over the whole week after. Not that either of them cared—and not that  _ that _ stopped them from devouring one another over and over again the rest of that very same week.

 

Despite their clashing schedules (Mark’s hours as a budding game designer were only slightly more regular than Jaebeom’s), they always managed to sneak in time for some form of physical intimacy. And before their son arrived, Jaebeom and Mark could never seem to keep their hands off one another—not even from the start. It was new for Jaebeom; until Mark, he’d never cared for or desired anyone beyond a one-night stand—and it was new for Mark as well, because until Jaebeom, Mark had never wanted to put out until at least the seventh date.

 

Whatever other rules they had left were all shattered to pieces that first date, when it was only common decency that prevented them from pawing down each other’s pants in the restaurant. Jaebeom had been quick to call the check, even though their food was only half-finished, and then it’d been a race to get to Mark’s apartment (which was the closest) for dessert (though Mark had a sneak taste when he blew Jaebeom in the car all the way home).

 

Mark liked to claim that after that first night, he made it his life’s mission to make Jaebeom his. Jaebeom had one over him;  _ he’d  _ known from the second he’d laid eyes on Mark that he was The One. But he had indulged his husband that fantasy anyway, because there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Mark.

 

Jaebeom had known for a while of Mark’s growing desire to have children. He wasn’t blind; he’d noticed the way his husband’s eyes went all soft and gooey whenever they spent time with Youngjae, their best friends’ two-year-old at the time. So, when Mark shyly suggested, sometime after their third wedding anniversary, that maybe it was time to consider expanding their little family, Jaebeom’s response was swift and immediate. 

 

He quickly engaged his lawyer (his best friend Jinyoung, who was also one of Youngjae’s fathers) to get started on all the legal paperwork required—and almost immediately after that, he contacted at least a dozen different adoption agencies to see which one could bless him and Mark with a child to love. Jackson, Mark’s best friend and Youngjae’s other father, had given him a list of possibilities, agencies which he and Jinyoung had used in their search for Youngjae; Jaebeom had gone online and sourced out other reputable ones that were open to the notion of adopting children to gay couples.

 

It hadn’t been easy, though. It was still a conservative society, after all; in spite of what progress had been made in terms of legalising same-sex marriage, there were still a great number of the obstinate old guard who didn’t think gay couples made good parents. Jaebeom and Mark had excellent references, Jinyoung and Jackson were strong endorsers; both sets of expecting grandparents were ready on hand to help out at any time; and just in case they needed to make their case stronger by guaranteeing at least one stay-at-home parent, Mark made a deal with his company that allowed him to work entirely from home except for the occasional meeting.

 

But they’d faced setback after setback: older children they had a keen interest in adopting were given to straight couples instead; expecting teen mothers who liked the sound of them and had all but promised them their newborns suddenly changed their minds, and kept the babies themselves. Not that either Jaebeom or Mark begrudged the birth mothers their right to their children—but each time they came so close, only to have the adoption come to naught, took its emotional toll on Mark.

 

“Are we not good enough?” Mark had broken down weeping one day in Jaebeom’s arms, when yet another potential adoption fell through. “Do the mothers all have this sense that we’d be terrible parents? Why doesn’t anyone want us?”

 

It wrenched Jaebeom to see Mark so utterly wrecked; his own heart crumbled each time he held a shattered Mark in his arms. But there was nothing else he could do to help his husband other than to comfort him and hope fervently that their prayers would be answered one day.

 

It took two years—two long, draining years of painfully near misses—before they finally,  _ finally _ got the call they had been waiting for. The adoption agency that had matched Youngjae to Jackson and Jinyoung had found Jaebeom and Mark a baby: an almost newborn, abandoned at a community hospital by his drug-addict mother (who was later discovered dead from a heroin overdose). There was no father who came to claim him, no blood relatives who stepped forward to take him in themselves. 

 

The mother left no will as to the care of the boy—and anyway, she had essentially signed away all rights to him when she left him at the hospital. With nothing standing in their way anymore, it was easy enough for the courts to grant over full custody and all familial and guardianship rights. Jaebeom and Mark signed the papers as soon as they received them—and brought their son home with them that very same day.

 

Looking down at the precious bundle still clinging onto his finger, Jaebeom swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. As a tribute to his Thai heritage, Jaebeom and Mark had decided not to change anything about their baby’s name besides adding on their surnames (though Mark had started calling him Bambam because Kunpimook was a bit of a mouthful). Their son—god, what a thrill that was to say!—was now sleeping soundly, his expression peaceful. Bambam looked like a perfect little angel, adorable lips pursed in a pout and his absurdly long lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones.

 

_ I could just stare at him for hours, _ Jaebeom thought.

 

Suddenly, Bambam’s tiny nose began to scrunch up and his hold on his father’s finger slackened. Jaebeom’s eyes widened in panic; oh no! No, no, no, no, what was this? Bambam shouldn’t be waking up yet; Mark had barely put the baby to bed less than two hours ago!

 

The thing about Bambam that both Jaebeom and Mark learned very quickly was that there was no gradual increase in volume for him. Nope, no sir. It was zero to one thousand in a nanosecond, and the piercing wails that spilled from Bambam’s mouth—Jaebeom swore they could outpitch their house alarm even—filled the nursery before Jaebeom even had time to blink.

 

“Shh, it’s okay, Bammie! It’s okay! Appa’s here!” Jaebeom hastily tried to assure his son, running what he hoped was a warm, comforting hand down his son’s downy head. “Please, baby, don’t cry! It’s okay! It’s all gonna be okay …”

 

Bambam didn’t stop crying, but his huge, watery eyes turned to peer up pathetically at his father, rivulets of snot running down from his nose. He clenched his fists tighter against his little body, and his heartbreaking combination of ear-shattering wails and miserable whimpers only served to heighten Jaebeom’s anxiety.

 

_ Shit, what do I do? _ Jaebeom thought frantically. 

 

The adoption had only been official for little over a week, and until now it had always been Mark who had settled the baby down. Not to say Jaebeom hadn’t been there; of course he had, always hovering over Mark’s shoulder to coo at their new son. But when it came to actually taking care of the baby, Jaebeom had felt so pitifully inept around his son while Mark …

 

Well, Mark was just a natural, a regular Super-Dad, almost as though he’d been born just to be a father. Bambam had taken to Mark right from the moment the social workers had placed him in Mark’s trembling but secure arms. No signs of trauma of being deserted by his mother, he’d curled into the blonde like a newborn kitten to its momma. The look of pure joy Mark wore as he gazed tearfully down at their long-awaited, desperately-wanted child had Jaebeom swearing he’d never allow anyone or anything split their family apart.

 

Except perhaps his own goddamned incompetence …

 

Jaebeom had never really held Bambam on his own, at least not without Mark around as well. He needed Mark there as insurance, just in case his clumsy, hammy hands shook so much he’d drop their baby—and wouldn’t that give the social workers a solid reason to take their son away? Of course, if that happened, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep his son with them—but how could he argue against a case of abuse?

 

“Abuse?” Mark had said incredulously when Jaebeom had voiced this worry to him.

 

“Dropping the baby  _ is _ tantamount to abuse, Mark,” Jaebeom had argued.

 

Mark had rolled his eyes, even as he laid Bambam down in the crib and tucked a soft blue blanket around his body. “Beommie, you are  _ not _ going to drop our son.”

 

“You don’t know that, Mark,” Jaebeom had responded nervously. “You know how I am with kids; I can be all thumbs sometimes.”

 

“What nonsense!” Mark had scoffed. “You’re great with kids. Look at how you are with Youngjae! That boy adores you almost as much as he adores his parents!”

 

“But Youngjae’s an actual kid  _ kid _ , Mark. He’s four years old; that’s old enough to bounce back if I accidentally drop him. But Bammie here is  _ tiny _ ! And  _ delicate _ ! And he most definitely, most assuredly will  _ not _ bounce!”

 

“Beommie, I love you and I’m going to love raising our son together with you,” Mark had told him, his voice soft and gentle. “But you can’t avoid taking care of the baby by yourself forever. Sooner or later, Bambam’s going to need you—just you—and I may not be immediately on hand to offer any help.”

 

“I know—but for now, can’t we just … enjoy what we have going on for us?”

 

Mark had sighed, but he dropped the subject—having been with Jaebeom for quite a while now, he knew when not to push (at least for the time being). But now, Mark wasn’t here and a bawling, squalling Bambam was, and Jaebeom knew that if he didn’t get his stupid ass in check soon, his baby could well wake up the neighbourhood.

 

Slowly, shakily, his mouth dry but set in a very determined line, Jaebeom reached for his son and gently, gingerly lifted the weeping baby out of the crib. The fussing tampered down slightly, as Bambam stared wide-eyed up at his father.

 

“Hi there. Hi,” Jaebeom said softly, as he cradled his son in the crooked of his arm the way Mark had showed him. “Hi there, champ. What’s all the fuss, huh? Are you hungry, baby? Do you need a nappy change? Do you want Daddy? He’s sleeping now, but we could go find him.”

 

The wails faded into hiccups, as Bambam sniffled and settled into Jaebeom’s arms. Jaebeom could practically feel his heart explode with love and tenderness. This wasn’t too bad; his baby was responding almost as well to him as he did with Mark, so Jaebeom was clearly doing something right somewhere.

 

“There now, baby, it’s okay,” he murmured to his son. “You know Appa’s got you.”

 

He sniffed at his son, and his nose only caught the pleasant whiff of clean, adorably baby. Okay, so it looked like Bambam didn’t need a change of diapers—which meant he probably woke up because his tummy was rumbling. No real surprise; his son drank a  _ lot _ for a three-month-old.

 

Still wary about dropping his son, Jaebeom turned carefully towards the door of the nursery, looking to head downstairs to the kitchen where all the baby formula was kept. He glanced up—and found Mark standing in the doorway, looking at him with his heart in those gorgeous, doe brown eyes Jaebeom absolutely adored.

 

Jaebeom smiled sheepishly. “Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Mark replied, mouth curved in his usual smile.

 

“Um … baby needed us,” Jaebeom explained unnecessarily.

 

“I know. He woke me up.”

 

Jaebeom winced. “I’m sorry, I should’ve expected it. I was really hoping you’d sleep through it.”

 

Mark laughed. “We’re parents now, Beommie; I doubt either of us will ever be able to sleep through anything anymore.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right—even though this one here has lungs that could wake up the dead.”

 

Mark laughed again. “I know. It’s something we’re going to have to get used to.”

 

Jaebeom looked back down at his son, who was now staring up at him as he suckled his thumb. “Guess we should go get this little guy fed, huh?”

 

“It’s either that, or let him go all banshee on us again,” Mark replied dryly, though his eyes were twinkling with amusement.

 

Jaebeom rolled his eyes. “God, no. I’m surprised the neighbours haven’t come round to complain yet, as if they don’t hate us enough already.”

 

“That’s only because they’re jealous they haven’t got spouses half as hot as we do,” Mark said teasingly.

 

Jaebeom’s face cracked into a broad grin. “You’re not wrong there.”

 

Bambam began to whimper loudly at that point, which drew their attention immediately back to their son.

 

“Oh, the little man’s demanding,” Mark chuckled, before he narrowed his eyes at Jaebeom, his expression considering. “Do you need me to take over?”

 

“Um ...” 

 

Jaebeom’s mind ran through the potential hazards on the way to the kitchen—the stairs especially was most likely to be his biggest adversary—and then he saw the way Bambam was looking at him, all expectant and hopeful and … 

 

His breath caught in his throat. Trust. He’d seen trust. 

 

“No,” Jaebeom said, voice hoarse with emotion. “No, I can handle it.”

 

Mark’s eyes were shining as he nodded in agreement, and Jaebeom flashed him a somewhat self-deprecating smile.

 

“We’re going to be good at this, aren’t we? I mean, we’re not going to mess it up, right?”

 

Mark cocked his head. “Mess what up, being parents?”

 

“Yeah,” Jaebeom huffed out.

 

“Did you think we would?”

 

“Not for you—never for you,” Jaebeom assured him, reaching forward to kiss his forehead. “But yeah, I’d be lying if I said I was always confident about raising a child.”

 

Mark leaned into Jaebeom’s touch. “Well,  _ I _ never had a doubt in my mind that you’d be a terrific father.”

 

Jaebeom sighed. “How are you like that all the time? How are you able to be so confident about me when  _ I’m _ not confident about me? I was so damn afraid of doing this. I was the one going on and on about dropping the baby with my thumb-like fingers!”

 

“Mm-hmm, but look at you now. No more than two thumbs in sight. And Bammie clearly adores you.”

 

Bambam chose that moment to let out another high-pitched whimper, and Mark smiled ruefully.

 

“Although,” he was quick to amend, “that might change if you don’t feed him soon.”

 

Jaebeom’s eyes were woeful as they gazed upon Mark. “Tell me, please—tell me how you’ve managed to stay so calm about me being … well, being like  _ this _ .”

 

“I know how nervous you get about doing things for the first time—but I also know that once you’ve worked it out, you throw yourself into it with all the passion and intensity you possess. Parenting might have scared you initially, but I knew that once you got the hang of it, you were going to be the best dad there ever was.”

 

Mark’s smile was like the sun as he stood on his tiptoes then to kiss his husband. 

 

“Besides,” he whispered against Jaebeom’s mouth, “I married you, Beommie. And I would never marry a man who didn’t know how to fix his thumb-fingers for his baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you've read? Do you enjoy reading fics as much as I do? Do you like kpop? Are you an ahgase? Are you a shipper? Do you just want someone to fangirl with? Someone to talk to? Do you want to be friends? If your answer is yes to any of the above, feel free to hook me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ahgakitten).
> 
> PS: Stream Lullaby!


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